


Than with My Own Conscience

by gypsydancergirl (hauntedlittledoll)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Gabriel's dog is named Pete, Gen, Random Literary References for the Win
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedlittledoll/pseuds/gypsydancergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two angels are in the Christmas Spirit--more or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Than with My Own Conscience

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Adventure of Abbey Grange."
> 
> Written for lonelyphoenix85 christmas stocking over on spn_gabriel.

Castiel emerged from his bedroom to let Pete out, only to discover that the apartment he reluctantly shared with his older brother had changed suddenly during the night.

This was not at all unusual. Gabriel was reasonably-paranoid at best, causing them to shift from city to city at the first sign of potential threat. His older brother also suffered from maniac interior design tendencies fueled by ADHD and chocolate. Taste was a matter of perception.

Bright red and green was a new color scheme however. The basic layout of the apartment appeared the same, but large evergreens and swathes of red fabric altered the proportions of the rooms available for use. Also, there was a fireplace in the living room that had not been there when Castiel had gone to bed last night.

One of the trees began to shake in the corner.

Castiel prudently took cover behind the nearest couch. Pete dove under the coffee table. “Gabriel,” Castiel called patiently. “There is a sentient tree in the living room.” Having alerted his older brother to the danger, Castiel waited for Gabriel to deal with it accordingly.

He was learning.

Curiosity was still strong, however, so Castiel peeked over the sofa in time to catch his brother fighting his way free of the Douglas fir. That explained the shaking.

“Why didn’t you dismiss it?” Castiel asked, head-cocked to the side, but not emerging from behind the sofa. He didn’t trust the tree that had given an archangel such trouble.

“You couldn’t help, could you?” Gabriel shot back, brushing pine needles out of his hair. “Comfy, kid?”

“Quite,” Castiel nodded, and repeated, “Why didn’t you dismiss it?”

“Because that’d be counterproductive. We need the tree for Christmas.” Gabriel opened the front door of the apartment out into a random grassy field and Pete launched himself for freedom. Then both brothers crashed on the sofa with Gabriel’s preferred breakfast— **Froot Loops** with chocolate syrup, mini-marshmallows and **Mountain Dew**.

Hey, it was called **_Froot_ Loops** wasn’t it?

The closest acceptable channel that the pair could agree on was the one showing a **Home Alone** marathon. Gabriel found the claymation Christmas specials creepy, and Castiel firmly rejected the pay-per-view channels. It was safer that way.

If the movie gave the angels ideas as how to perhaps further defend their home, well, it might be best not to think too hard about which angel might actually go to such lengths.

Once breakfast was over, Gabriel let the dog back inside and buried Castiel in a pile of tinsel, while he proceeded to tie the Christmas lights in intricate knots. Untangling Christmas lights was traditional, and if he happened to get bored halfway through, that would be the excuse used to convince Castiel to undo the damage.

Castiel had worked his way out of the tinsel although quite a few strands glittered from where he had missed them. It made his boring suit much more festive. Castiel stood above his brother watching Gabriel work with his head tilted to one side.

“What is the purpose of all this?” Castiel indicated the room at large.

“Decorations. To get us in the Christmas spirit and all. Christmas is all about family and friends and food . . .”

“And the birth of Christ,” Castiel added, pointedly. “Just because you and Joseph got off on the wrong foot does not mean you have special permission to repress your memories of the most important event of human history.”

“It totally wasn’t my fault that his family was in danger every other moment. The saying "Don’t shoot the messenger" was developed about a thousand years too late,” Gabriel grumbled and then brightened. “But Mary was the best cook.”

“For an archangel, you think an awful lot with your stomach,” Castiel shook his head fondly, reaching down to scratch Pete’s head. “At times you remind me of . . .”

Castiel didn’t finish the sentence, but neither of them needed it to be finished for an awkward silence to descend. Castiel retreated to the sofa to examine the Christmas ornaments there and miss his human friends. Gabriel continued to aggravate the light situation, because guilt was just not a good look for an archangel.

Gabriel finally snapped his fingers bringing the lights to life. “Stop moping, bro. You’re supposed to be self-centered and worrying about your own presents.”

Castiel sighed heavily. “I am not a child.”

“Indulge me,” Gabriel grunted, wrestling the tree into submission as he began lashing the lights around it the way he’d seen calf-roping done the last time he was in Texas. He’d looked rather fine in the boots and cowboy hat if he said so himself. It gave him a couple ideas for a Western-themed prank once he had the perfect perp . . . or you know, a Winchester. “And grab a couple handfuls of tinsel.”

“Tinsel?”

“The shiny slippery stuff-” Gabriel glanced up. “On second thought, just come here—you’re wearing enough for half the tree.”

Castiel gave a long-suffering sigh (which differentiated from his heavy sigh by the air of My-brother-is-a-lunatic that he exudes along with the patiently-put-upon vibe), and obediently set the box of ornaments aside. “You could accomplish all of this with a snap of your fingers,” the younger angel pointed out as he approached.

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to do it by hand, and together . . . you know, like a family?”

Castiel bit his lip, and ran a hand over his shirt to gather some of the tinsel. “What do I do with it?” he asked, head tilted to the side.

“You hang it over the branches like this,” his brother demonstrated with a few strands plucked from Castiel’s back. “Just a couple strands per branch so there’s still room for the ornaments, I think.”

“Have you not done this before?” Castiel tilted his head further to the side.

“No. Too much work for just one person,” Gabriel grinned widely. “Yeah, the whole reason I kidnapped you, Castiel, was for free holiday labor.”

Castiel was sneaky enough to take advantage of his new role. It was purely for his brother’s benefit after all.

While Gabriel was distracted with getting the tinsel to actually stay on the top branches, Castiel slipped under his arm and hugged the older angel. Gabriel dropped the tinsel which landed on Castiel’s head, but the younger angel ignored it and hung on.

“Yeesh,” Gabriel groaned, but returned the embrace with one-arm. “Okay, okay, not just for the free labor, but it’s a great side-benefit . . . you gonna let go anytime soon, bro?”

Castiel shook his head, waiting patiently. Gabriel was less stubborn than Dean. Any moment now . . .

“I’m not going to fall for this,” Gabriel protested. “I’m not . . . I’m not . . . for crying out loud—the head tilt should be registered as a lethal weapon, Castiel!” But even under protest, his brother swept him up in a full embrace. “Alright, I missed you and the others, and I kidnapped you because I’m selfish, and you know what? I’m okay with that.”

Castiel gave a little smirk of self-satisfaction.

Gabriel released him with a grumble, and sent him careening back into the pile of tinsel. “And you totally deserve that after you got tinsel all over me,” Gabriel returned brushing at his shirt futilely.


End file.
